


The New Sheriff in Town

by confusednerdling



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 2x10 prediction, Angst, F/F, Post 2x09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 12:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusednerdling/pseuds/confusednerdling
Summary: When Nicole comes to, she’s laying on a hospital bed staring up at white tiles. When Nicole comes to, she knows Wynonna and Waverly are both at her side. They always are. And Nicole comes to, she knows Nedley is dead.





	The New Sheriff in Town

When Nicole comes to, she’s laying on a hospital bed staring up at white tiles. When Nicole comes to, she knows Wynonna and Waverly are both at her side. They always are. And Nicole comes to, she knows Nedley is dead. 

(“ _It’s you or him. You or him. Only one may live_ ,” The widows taunts are in the back of her head. He picks her, and all she can do is scream.)

They’re still fighting when she comes to. She remembers the text - remembers she took a few long sips of whiskey. 

(“ _Dear control freak_ ” - Everyone was calling her that nowadays. Too controlling. Being her sister’s keeper. Too bossy. “ _I will talk to you when I want to talk to you._ ” Space - she needed space. “ _Until then, have a nice life hurting the people you love._ ” And now, Nedley’s dead, and it’s all because of Nicole.)

She remembers the text. She remembers what she did. She remembers the fights and the squabbles. She remembers Waverly bringing it all up in front of the boys. 

But when Waverly looks at her, relief in her eyes at seeing her - 

(Even though, she doesn’t deserve it. Even though, she’s a monster. Even though, Nedley’s dead and she’s alive and it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right to feel relief when he’s gone.)

\- it almost makes her forget. Forget that she was an idiot. Forget she was trying to protect, trying to do the right thing, but it went awry. 

When she looks into Waverly’s watery brown eyes, she forgets it all. She tricks herself into thinking the fighting is over. It isn’t. 

She turns her head slightly, and there’s Wynonna Earp - dirt under her nails, swollen pregnant belly, crumbs on her shirt. She’s as disheveled as Waverly. She’s got a broken look in her eyes. Like something slipped out of place. 

“Hey, Haughtstuff, um… It’s good to see you’re awake. Um, we got some… We got some bad news. Okay? Um...” Wynonna croaks. Nedley’s dead,”

“I am so sorry, baby,” Waverly whispers. Her fingers are running through her red hair. “I am so, so sorry. They tried to save him but - “ Her fingers are running along her scalp. Nicole knows she’s trying to soothe her, to comfort her, but she hates it. She wishes the fingers would hurt her instead. 

(She deserves it.)

She feels nothing as tears silently run down her cheeks. 

(His face is grey. Sweat is shining on his skin. Blood is running from his lips and mouth. He’s in bad condition. They both know it. “ _Nicole, it has to be me. You need to get out of here. You need to find your girl and you need take my place as Sheriff_ ,” His voice is soft and too loud at the same time. Nicole wants to hug him, grab him, pull him away from the danger, because he shouldn’t be here. He’s here because of her. He’s here because she insisted Purgatory Sheriff’s Deparment blend with BBD. He’s here because she filed that police report on Jack the Ripper that forced him to open his eyes to it all. He’s here because she didn’t want him to stay ignorant, to keep his eyes closed. He’s here because of her and she wants to grab him and save him in a hundred different ways, but her hands are tied.

She watches the life drain from his eyes.)

\---

Chrissy comes to visit. Her eyes are swollen and red. Her lip quivers, and her knees buckle at the sight of Nicole. She throws her arms around her. Nicole places one on her back.

They’ve never hugged before. 

(That’s not entirely true. They hugged a few times when Nicole would come over for dinner carrying a bottle of wine and wearing her best sweater. But it was quick and a greeting. It was habit. This… This was different. Like Chrissy was trying to keep her here.)

Waverly and Wynonna both watch wordlessly. Nicole hasn’t spoken since she woke up. Hasn’t uttered a word. She hasn’t moved much either. All she can do, it seems, right now is cry.

(She feels worthless. Feels small. Feels like she let everyone down.)

( _”Have a nice life hurting the people you love_.”)

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Chrissy whispers into her shoulder. Her arms are tight, and the hug is warm. 

(Nicole ignores the thoughts that wish Chrissy would strangle her, would suffocate her, for letting her father die.)

“I’m sorry,” Nicole whispers back. Her voice is scratchy from misuse and barely audible. “I’m sorry. I didn’t save him,” But Chrissy stills hears her. 

She leans back and gives her a small watery smile. “He loved you, you know? Like, you were his daughter. He always - “ She let out a chuckle that was more heartbreaking than humourous. “He always kept going on and on about you,”

Nicole looks up at her. Looks into her eyes. “Don’t think for one goddamn second he didn’t go on and on about you too. He loved you, Chrissy. With all his heart,” She let out a soft breath. It’s taking everything out of her to pretend things are okay. To fake a smile. But Chrissy needs it so she keeps it on. “Hell, I’ve heard so much about your sixth grade talent show, I bet I could recreate it right here on the spot,”

They both laugh until they cry.

(Until they sob, weep, and scream. Until Wynonna has to hold up Chrissy, because she’s falling apart, and Waverly has to calm Nicole down because she’s nearing hysteria.)

\---

Wynonna leaves to the homestead on the third night. It’s not good for her to be sleeping in a chair. She almost doesn’t leave, but Waverly convinces her that they need alone time. They need to talk. 

Nicole feels like if they fight anymore it might just kill her. 

(Chrissy is at home planning a funeral right now because of her. A girl lost her father because of her.)

Waverly plays with her hands a lot, rambles about some new vapor Jeremy made to combat the paralysis effect the widows have, sips water loudly… She avoids eye contact at all times. 

(Nicole feels sick.)

Nicole inhales sharply, because she knows if she doesn’t say this. If she doesn’t get it out, she’ll regret it. So she’s the one who starts talking, who says, “Waves, I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I was trying to protect you, but you’re right. I’m… I’m a control freak. I should have been - “

“I kissed Rosita!”

The heart monitor doesn’t pick up the crack. The cracking of her spirit. Of her soul. Of whatever she had left. Because it breaks in that moment. Her heart just fucking breaks. And the heart monitor doesn’t pick it up. Instead, it starts beating faster. 

“I’m sorry. What?” Her voice sounds dead and deflated. Even though the tendrils of panic are digging into her heart. Even though her heart monitor was going crazy. Even though she could feel every part of her body shaking, itching to run and leave. 

“We were in a hot tub, and I was all mixed up about you lying to me, about everyone lying to me. I was drinking. Although, that’s not an excuse. It’s not… I did it. And I regret it. And the moment I did it, I stopped. And it was a one time thing. And I hate myself for doing it. I didn’t think. I just _did it_ ,” She’s rambling. The way she does when she’s nervous, and the words are flying out, and she just can’t stop them.

(Nicole feels sicker.)

“Nicole?” She realizes Waverly stopped. She hadn’t even noticed. Too focused on the monitor and it’s incessant beating. Too focused on the dark parts of her that are saying _good, she’s moving on, because she deserves better than you_. Too focused on the dread and the panic and the sadness and all the mixed up emotions. “Nicole, I need you to say something…”

“I need time,”

Waverly nods. “I’m so sorry, Nicole. I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out now of all times, but you… You needed to know,”

Nicole nods. Her eyes go to the right and focus on the chair where Wynonna once sat at.

(She wishes Nedley was sitting there. She wishes he was just _here_.)

When her eyes go back to Waverly, she’s gone. 

\---

Chrissy brings her home, buys her a bunch of cat food, and brings alcohol. 

Nicole knows she shouldn’t drink while mixed up with medication, but she can’t resist.

(Because her girlfriend kissed another girl. Because Nedley’s dead. Because she was tortured by the black widows. Because she was kidnapped. Because everything is going to shit.)

They sit on her couch and do a toast to Nedley. 

(“To the best dad ever!” Chrissy drunkenly slurs. They slam their glasses together and take the shot.)

They do a few toasts to Nedley actually, but the painkillers and alcohol are a bad mix and Nicole knows that so she limits herself. Even though she wants to drown in it. 

(Drown in her sadness and self-loathing.)

She hobbles to her bedroom. “I’m going to bed. What’s mine is yours. Take the guest bed. Just whatever you do, don’t hurt Calamity Jane,” 

Chrissy bobs her head up and down, raises the bottle, and gives Nicole a mock salute before Nicole passes out on her bed. 

\---

Chrissy ends up on the couch. She has one arm awkwardly tucked beneath her and the other hanging off. Her heels are still on and her hair is strewn about.

(Calamity watches her from afar with a look of amusement.) 

Nicole takes off her heels, throws a blanket over her, pushes a bottle of Advil nearby, and decides to go out and buy coffee. 

\---

She walks down the aisles slowly and sluggishly. She catches people staring at her. 

Purgatory is a small town. Of course, they know. They all know. 

They know Nedley’s dead. That it’s her fault. They look at her like she’s broken. She doesn’t blame them. When catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she nearly scares herself. - skin pale as ghost, hair limp and all over, grey sweatpants, and black hoodie. 

She almost feels broken too. 

People stare, and people whisper. And she’s used to it, because she’s a lesbian cop in a small town. Whispers and staring are a part of the job description, but it’s unnerving now. 

She feels sick.

(They blame her. They blame her. They blame her. Because Nedley was Purgatory. Born and bred. He loved it here. He understood it. Nicole didn’t. But Nedley did, and now Nedley is dead. And it’s because of her.)

She walks up to the cashier and places her groceries down. 

The man has kind eyes and gives her a soft smile. “Thoughts and prayers are with you, Sheriff Haught,”

 _Sheriff_.

She runs to the bathroom and throws up.

\---

The funeral is brief but beautiful. She says a few words about his service to Purgatory and him being a father figure. She can’t really remember what exactly came out of her mouth. She just knows when she’s done, Chrissy is crying and everyone is applauding. And there’s a wetness on her cheeks. 

When she walks back to her seat, she catches a glimpse of Waverly Earp crying in the last pew. It takes everything in her power not to run over and comfort her.

\---

She finds herself in Shorty’s. The last place she ever wanted to be. In fact, she avoided the place like the plague. But now, she was sitting at the bar nursing a drink, listening to the sounds and the chatter carefully. Dissecting it almost. Like she was searching for someone.

She knew exactly who she was searching for. But she knew he wasn’t there. 

(And he’d never be again.)

She let out a sigh and sipped her drink.

It’s been a week since she last talked to Waverly. 

(She missed her.)

“Drinking alone?” It’s Rosita. Her hair in a high pony, and her eyes sparkling. 

“Unfortunately,” she murmurs. She knows it’s not Rosita’s fault. She knows Rosita has no interest in Waverly beside a platonic one. She knows Rosita is a friend. She _knows_ all that.

But her heart doesn’t. 

(Although frankly, these days, it seems her heart doesn’t know what to feel anymore. So it just feels numb.)

“You want a cherry?” Rosita offers, dangling one from her fingers. Nicole can’t help but wonder if Rosita blames herself for Nicole’s messy close-to-death appearance. Maybe that’s why she’s talking to her. “It makes it less sad,”

“I’m okay,” Nicole forces a smile, but it comes out awkward and strange. She drops it instantly and finishes her drink. “Can I have another?”

Rosita hesitates.

(Of course, she does. Because she cares.)

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Officer,”

(At least, she didn’t say “sheriff”. At least, she didn’t say that.)

“I’m fine,” Nicole frowns. 

“I know you’re on pain medication after you fractured your ribs,”

(And got concussed, and bruised, and beaten, and bloody.)

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to keep drinking,” Rosita says. Her voice is comforting and soft. 

Nicole wants to get mad, start shouting, go behind the bar, and get it herself, but she’s not that kind of person. Instead, she deflates a bit and nods. 

Rosita watches her for a second before she decides, “I’m going to call Waverly. I don’t think it’s safe for you to be alone right now,”

“No. Don’t,” Nicole shakes her head. “We’re not speaking currently,”

Rosita lowers the phone. “Because of me?”

“No,” Nicole shakes her head again. “Because we keep hurting each other,”

(When she closes her eyes, she can see Waverly walking away, screaming, “ _Don’t follow me!_ ”. She can see the pain she caused.)

(When she closes her eyes, the text haunts her.)

( _”Have a nice life hurting the people you love_.”)

“Don’t shut her out, Nicole. You need her,”

“I don’t,” Nicole grumbles. Because she’s drunk and she’s stubborn. And the world is kind of cloudy and spinning. 

“Well, you need someone,” Rosita mulls it over a moment before she finally reaches a conclusion. “If you won’t let me call Waverly, I’ll call the next best thing,”

\---

She’s still sitting at the bar, listening to the jukebox crank out country tunes, and listening to swell of customer cheers and laughter when Wynonna Earp grabs her by the collar and pulls her off the stool. 

“Thanks for the call, Rosita,” she cries out as she drags Nicole to the door. But she’s drunk and clumsy and nearly trips a few times. 

“Anytime! Get the good officer home safe!”

“Will do,” Wynonna slams the doors of Shorty’s wide open and nearly pushes Nicole over as she relinquishes her grip in a forceful fashion. The sun is hot and unfortunate, but it's Wynonna’s voice that cuts through her drunken daydreams. “What are you doing, Haught? It’s freaking eleven in the afternoon, and I get a call that you’re drinking yourself to death. What the Hell, man? That’s not you. That’s me. You’re stealing my gig,” 

“Sorry,” 

“You’re a mess, man,” Wynonna sighs, running her hand through her hair. “We really did a number on you,”

“You didn’t do anything,”

“Yeah, but the Earp curse did,” her voice solemn. And the fact that isn’t followed up by a joke is frankly sobering. “Come on. I’m bringing you home. Keys?” 

Nicole passes them ungracefully, and they nearly end up in the gutter, but Earp reflexes are much better than drunken Haught’s. She catches them mid-air and drags Nicole to her truck.

“This better be the last time I have to do this,” Wynonna says. But Nicole knows that if she ever called, Wynonna would be there in a heartbeat. The truck starts up, and the world keeps spinning. “I’m sorry, you know? I haven’t been a good friend,”

“It’s fine,” Nicole murmurs, blocking out the world with her hand. “It’s all good,”

“It’s not. You’re a mess. And I could have helped. I have great experience with being a mess. It’s like the only thing I’m good at,” 

Nicole nods. 

“I’m sorry about Nedley. He was a good man. I mean, he was always on my back, but… He was a good man. He just wanted me to be better,” Wynonna admits. “And I’m sorry about Waverly too. I didn’t… I didn’t expect her to do that to you, but… She loves you. You know that? She just messed up,”

Nicole couldn’t recall anything else that was said, because that was when she passed out. 

\---

She awoke on a couch that was far too uncomfortable to be hers with the smell of pancakes in the air. It was wonderful. It smelt like home.

She open her eyes, and the moment she noted it was the Earp homestead visibly lurched backwards. Fear coursed through her body in an instant. 

This isn’t home.

(Even though it felt like. Even though she dreamed of it.)

“Sorry,” Wynonna whispers. She hadn’t even noticed the older Earp sitting down on the armrest of the couch. “I blanked on your address, and I was worried about you. So I took you here,”

“Has Waverly seen me?” 

“She’s asleep,” Wynonna shifts her weight uncomfortably, internally juggling with the role of both sister and best friend. “You should talk to her,”

“I will. Just… I’m not ready,”

“Okay. Well, rise and shine, sleepyhead. We got food,”

“So she’s not the one who’s been making pancakes?” It was a Waverly Earp tradition to make breakfast. Nicole used to be a part of that.

“Nope. It’s me. Smells good, huh? I’ve been practising,” Wynonna grins, patting her softly on the knee. She moves to the kitchen - a woman on a mission.

“How downright maternal,” 

The mother gig and Wynonna might not be such a bad fit after all. 

“You should eat,” Wynonna calls out. She’s holding a plate and she looks so proud of herself for making something actually edible that Nicole can feel her resolve, her desire to run, melt away. 

They sit down together and eat together, sipping coffee. Nicole ignores her headache, ignores the deep throbbing, and ignores everything really until Wynonna speaks up.

“When was the last time you ate?”

She honestly can’t remember. It’s been small snacking here and there. Once, Chrissy dropped off takeout at her door with a little note on it. 

(“Eat or otherwise the cat will eat you when you die alone of starvation” it read.)

“I don’t know. Four days?”

“Jesus, man,” Wynonna shakes her head. “You have to stop blaming yourself,”

Nicole drops the fork. Sometimes, it feels like Wynonna can read her so easily. 

“I’m not,”

“You are,” she insists. “You don’t eat. You’re drinking a lot more. You clearly have forgotten about personal hygiene. I mean, I do love the smell of whiskey, but not when it’s wafting out of your pores, man,” 

Nicole eyes her sweats - sleeveless grey hoodie that was two sizes too big and a black sweatpants. Her hair is wild and uncleaned. Wynonna may have a point.

“Look, I get it. I know it’s hard. Trust me there’s a lot of shit I still hold on to. A _lot_. You just gotta keep reaffirming to yourself - you did your best. You did what you could. You can’t go back,” Wynonna sighs. “I mean, honestly, Haught. You couldn’t do anything. Only Peacemaker can kill those things, and if you broke from your restraints sooner, all you would have done is get killed,”

“No, because I could have sacrificed myself. They said only one will survive, and Nedley picked me. He sacrificed himself for _me_ ,” Nicole hisses, jabbing at her clavicle for emphasis. 

“Shit, Nicole. Then, make that sacrifice worthwhile. Don’t throw your life away, and don’t make his death worthless,” 

“I’m not!”

“Ignoring everyone. Not going to work. And drinking until you forget your name, doesn’t exactly scream healthy individual who values their life, does it?” 

Nicole holds herself together, wrapping her arms around herself. Getting life advice from Wynonna Earp was both comforting and frightening at the same time. She let the words sink again.

“I’ll go back to work,”

“Okay. Good. But only if you’re ready,”

They stare at each other for a long moment. Both equally frightened by the role reversal that took place. Both thinking the same thing before Nicole picked her fork up again.

“Shit, Wynonna,” Nicole chuckles softly. “You’re going to make a Hell of a mom,”

“Thanks, Haught. What can I say? My maternal instincts just kind of kicked in. Now, finish your breakfast,”

\---

She returned to work after two days. She walked into work in her uniform with Nedley’s black Stetson on her head and her hair down. None of her fellow officers spoke to her as she walked down the halls. 

Merely “it’s good to have you back” and “welcome back”. Brief small sentences that didn’t matter, but an older officer came up to her. 

“You’re going to do great, Sheriff. Nedley believed in you,” 

And the day got a bit easier. 

\---

They had cleaned out her new office for her. She thought that would be the hard part - seeing all that old stuff. She thought the hard part would be walking in and being assaulted by all the memories, but she was wrong. The hard part was sitting in her chair, in her office, all alone with nothing but memories and regrets. The hard part was moving her pictures and her cases and her computer in and noticing how _wrong_ it felt. 

She moved to towards the break room, but once she saw a glimpse of brown hair, she immediately retreated.

\---

“You look better,” Chrissy notes as she enters the office. She must feel the difference. She had to. It was strong and ugly. But she didn’t react that way. She didn’t throw the picture frames, smash the computer, or screamed. 

She stood there, took it all in, and barely reacted. 

Nicole was impressed. Being in the room made her dizzy sometimes as memories and her vision overlapped.

“Thanks. I feel better,” And Nicole did too. “How are you?”

“Managing. Every day gets a little bit easier,” Chrissy picked up a frame eyed it carefully before she put it down and looked up. “Nicole?”

“Yes?”

“We should have dinner,” Chrissy swallows hard. And Nicole can feel her heart clench. Because the _like we used to_ is implied and hurts so much. “You’re practically my sister, Nicole. At least in the eyes of…” 

“Yeah,”

“I don’t want to lose touch with you just because dad isn’t...around,” Chrissy admits. Her eyes are getting watery. “Being with you, talking to you… It makes me feel like - “

“Like he’s still around. Yeah, I feel that too,” Nicole nods. 

“So do you want to come over sometime? It’s okay if you aren’t ready,”

“I would love to,”

Chrissy smiles. And it’s beautiful. And it doesn’t fill Nicole with guilt. It doesn’t make her want to lie down in bed and never get up. It makes her want to work harder, makes her want to put an effort in to make Nedley proud. 

Nicole smiles back.

“You should bring Waverly,”

“We’re not… I mean, it’s kind of…”

“Weird?”

“But when they’re not weird, I might take you up on that,”

\---

She dreams about that night sometimes. Or she’ll be making a sandwich and his death will randomly replay in her brain. She doesn’t know what triggers it. It just happens. Then, she has to regain her composure, wipe the tears, and pretend things are fine and push through. 

Sometimes, she imagines Waverly holding her. But then she gets upset at herself for being selfish. 

(“You’ll just drag her down with you,” she’d mutter to herself.)

(Waverly deserved better. She did.)

( _”Have a nice life hurting the people you love_.”)

\---

“Look at you moving up in the world,” Wynonna whistles as she runs her fingers along the desk. She sits on the couch and kicks her feet up. “You mind if I come here to nap? Baby making and demon hunting is draining,”

“It’s fine. Just… No other extracurriculars on the couch,”

Wynonna froze for a moment and stood up. “Dude, is that _the couch_?”

“The couch?”

“The one where you and my baby sister did the - “

“No!” Nicole yelps. She leaps up. “No! No! Different couch! I mean, it is! But I got a new one put in! And we didn’t...here! We… We did that at the homestead!”

“I DON’T NEED DETAILS, HAUGHT!”

“I wasn’t giving any! You asked!” 

Wynonna let out a loud laugh. Why she gained so much amusement for turning Nicole’s face red was beyond her. But the laughter died down as Wynonna’s brain worked out a question.

“You took out the couch that you and Waves had your first kiss on?”

(Kissing. Naivety. Hope. Touching. Just endless touching. A desire to be connected.)

“No. I…” Nicole sighs. “I didn’t take it out for that. I just, this one is more comfortable,”

Wynonna doesn’t say anything, but nods. 

“I haven’t seen her,”

“She’s giving you space,”

“How is she?”

Wynonna blinks and looks up at her from the couch, debating on what to say - again, juggling between being a good friend and being a good sister. “Miserable,” she decides to admit. “She misses you. She feels horrible. She needs you,”

“I need her too,” 

“Are you still blaming yourself?”

“I’m getting better. I keep… I remember him everywhere. All my regrets about that day. It’s so overwhelming at times, it’s like I’m being haunted,”

“It’s Purgatory. You might actually be,”

“Nedley wouldn’t haunt me,” And she can’t believe she’s in a place in her life where she would have to say that sentence with such great conviction and not an ounce of humor. 

“You know who’s an expert on the paranormal?”

“Wynonna, please - “

“My baby sister, Waverly,”

“Wynonna,” Nicole frowns and the older Earp lets out a defeated sigh. 

“I just don’t like when you two are fighting. It’s gross. It’s like everything is wrong and backwards. You’re all grumpy. And Waves is all mopey. And it’s just gross. At least, when you’re around, there’s pancakes and Waverly singing in the morning and you buy me donuts,”

“I don’t know how to handle this situation. She cheated on me,”

Wynonna couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “It was one kiss though, Haught,” 

“But it’s still a breach of trust,”

“But you stole her DNA thingy!”

“Yeah, but I did that to protect her. She did this to hurt me,”

“I don’t think so,” Wynonna admits. Her defensive tone had fallen. Instead, she took on a softer one. “I think she’s going through a lot. And she wanted a connection, and she fucked up,” The silence in the room is nearly deafening when she pauses, but she continues. “She regrets it. She knows she made a mistake. I know you two love bird idiots can get past this,”

“I’m not too sure,”

Wynonna seems surprised by this. Her eyebrows rise. “Do you genuinely want to break up with her?”

“No,” Nicole whispers. She buries her face in her hands. “No, I don’t,”

(Everything is slipping away. Slipping out of her reach. Things are falling into place, but others are just falling apart. She just wants to melt away, to let another Nicole Haught look-alike handle it all.)

“Then, talk to her,”

“But what if we can’t get past this? What if we fall apart along the line? What if next time it isn’t just a kiss? What if it becomes more?”

“You love her, Haught. She loves you. So if you want to figure these things out. You have to talk to her,”

\---

Their meeting was accidental. It was in the grocery store. Nicole found the whole thing to be ironic. She had spent the morning psyching herself up to enter BBD office, but she just couldn’t. 

Now, she didn’t need to, because Waverly Earp was standing in front of her holding a carton of frozen yogurt and wide deer-in-headlight eyes. 

“Nicole,” she squeaks, nearly dropping the carton. 

“Waves. It’s good to see you,”

“It’s good to see you too. I missed you,” And she almost seems scared to say it. 

“I did too,”

They stare at each for a long moment before Waverly deflates. 

“Look, if you’re going to break up with me, I get it and - “

“No, I… I want to give us another shot,” Nicole admits. And she means it too. “But I think we need to discuss some things,”

“Yeah! Yeah, totally. So Rosita invited - “

“Maybe, we shouldn’t discuss them here though?” And Nicole smiles easily. She just can’t help it with Waverly. “Like at the homestead, maybe?” 

\---

They walk around the store a bit talking. Not about their situation, but about how the bakery down the road is having a discount on blueberries and how the Gardners have gone off the grid. 

And they finally stop once they arrive at a red Jeep. Waverly’s. 

“I’ll see you tonight?” And it’s hopeful and beautiful. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll see you tonight,”

She walks back to her car and for a moment she swears she could feel someone watching her. 

(It’s comforting and strange.)

She can't help but think it’s him. Can’t help but believe he’s watching out for her. “I’m going to make you proud, Nedley,” she whispers. And she means it too.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings after 2x09 and after seeing the 2x10 promo. I just really hate cheating tropes and stuff, but I trust Emily, and if she wants to go down this road, then I trust her. I understand why Waverly did it and that she regretted it. I understand characters fuck up and cheating is fucked up. I just wish it didn't happen. But, again, I trust Emily and know it'll bring Wayhaught closer in the end. We all know they're endgame anyways.
> 
> Shout out to Rosita for being such an MVP. I was iffy at first about her, but now I love her. 
> 
> Anyways, I got a lot of feelings about it all - mostly conflicted ones - so I rewatched the ep and decided to write this. Can't wait for the Wayhaught angst to be concluded. Oof. 
> 
> Sorry for any errors.
> 
> Tumblr - Haughtwords


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